


Corrective Therapy

by Bella_Watson_Holmes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-05
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:57:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bella_Watson_Holmes/pseuds/Bella_Watson_Holmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Watson is a corrective therapist and has been given a problem teenager whom doesn't wish to be there. Strangely, he finds himself attracted to this Sherlock Holmes</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Session One

Sherlock Holmes was on his way to a therapy session, he had been forced to go by his brother Mycroft after an incident that displeased his brother. The cab dropped him off in front of the building; Sherlock let out a sigh as he stared at the building and then paid the cabbie before walking in. He walked up to the receptionist, “I am here to see Dr. Watson.” 

The woman quickly pulled up his file and looked it over before looking up at him, "Please, take a seat. He'll be with you in a moment."

She hit the intercom button and waited for the reply before stating, “Your ten o'clock has arrived.” 

“Alright.” He hung up the phone and glanced at the clock; he had a few minutes before he'd have to get him. 

He pulled out the folder of information that was given to him at the booking and sipped at his tea. He sighed as he put a hand on the file, staring at the age; seventeen. "What do I look like, a rich-kid juvenile facility?" He muttered.

He stood up as the clock struck ten and made his way to the glass door and opened it, "Mr. Holmes?"

A tall, lithe man stood up, his features nearly incandescent in the halogen lights of the waiting room. He glided towards him and he outstretched a hand, "I'm Dr. Watso-"

"I know." Came the deep mutter as he shouldered past the short therapist and sat down in a chair, swinging one leg over the other and took on the form of someone sulking.

John sighed and made his way back to his desk where he sat down and shuffled through the files before starting his introductory session.

"So, Mr. Holmes, how are you today?"

The brilliant sea-foam eyes pierced him as they stared at him fiercely, "Oh, cut it. We both know I'm not here because I want to be, that I'm forced to be here, and nothing you can say or do will change who I am."

John stared at him and sighed, "Look, I'm just doing my job. What do you want me to say? You can just leave? Well, you can if you want."

The brunette huffed, "Would love to, but brother dearest stationed his dogs at the door to make sure I don't leave."

John cocked a brow, "Some brother. From what I understand he set you up here because you insulted someone of status?"

Sherlock snorted, "I didn't lie, so what is his problem? The woman called me an idiot, so I figured I'd tell her husband that she was sleeping with his best friend."

"Yes, but that was one of the most influential women in England, Mr. Holmes."

"Does that make them exempt from everything, now?" Sherlock sniffed, sulking further into his chair.

John sighed, giving up trying to go with his usual procedures.

"Your wife must not be happy with you."

John cocked a brow as he regarded the snotty-nosed brat. "How did you know I was married?"

"The tan on your ring finger. Just ended, the marriage, did it?"

The blonde sighed, running a hand through his hair, as he looked in bewilderment at the other, "Yes."

"Cheating from the looks of it. At least you haven't fallen to drinking, you just go home and play with your dog. Before you ask, hair on your pant leg and too high for a cat."

"Brilliant." John murmured, a smirk playing at the edge of his mouth, "You definitely know how to make a drab day exciting."

Sherlock cocked a brow in the others direction, "I'm not quite used to people praising me. I must say I like it."

That day, John had thrown away his regular program in favor of actually learning about his patient. A patient he was growing quite fond of.

"It was a pleasure, Mr. Holmes." John said as he shook the others hand at the end of the session.

"Please, call me Sherlock." The brunette said with a mysterious smile before he glided out the door and left the building.

John went back to his desk and sat down with a long sigh before picking up Mr. Holmes, no, Sherlock's file and putting it away. He leaned back in his chair and pulled out his next client's file. He groaned as it was a notorious attention-seeker and complainer. He would give anything to have Sherlock the whole day, even when he was being a jerk, anything was better than most of his clients.

He froze and put a hand to his face as he realized he was thinking way too much about his client. He shook his head and quickly went about making himself tea. Now was not the time to get attracted to clients, he was far too busy and had no room for romance in his life.


	2. Chapter 2

John arrived home from work. He lived in a one bedroom flat that he had rented shortly after his wife kicked him out. It had been at least two months since she filed for divorce, he was glad it was going to be over quickly; the sooner she was out of his life the better. He looked around and found his bulldog, Gladstone, laying on the bed. He smiled and went over to the bed, sitting down and petting Gladstone.

“How have you been today?” John asked, “Probably had a better day than me.” He smiled, thinking of Sherlock. He had never be attracted to a client before but Sherlock was different. John heard the phone ring so he got up and grabbed his phone, “Oh no” He groaned as he looked at the caller ID. He took a deep breath.

“Hello?” John answered as pleasantly as he could.

“Glad to see you still answer your phone.” A female voice rudely stated.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” John asked annoyed, “Now, what do you want?”

“The divorce papers in the mail.”

“You’re calling me to tell me that.” John remarked.

“When they get there sign them immediately, you worthless piece of shit.” She then hung up. 

John couldn’t believe he had married her- or even loved her for that matter. The doorbell rang and he went to the door and opened it, “Greg! This is a surprise.”

“Yeah, I brought take out.” 

John gestured him inside, “Mary just hung up on me.”

“Oh? What did she want this time?” Greg asked.

“To tell me to sign the divorce papers. Didn't have to ask me twice.” John told him, serving up the food.

“You deserve someone so much better than her. I mean, you didn’t do a damn thing wrong!”

“I know. I want to find that one person that likes me for me.”

“You will find that one person. Maybe you already did and don’t even know it.” Both men smiled, John ate the meal. He couldn’t help but think of Sherlock. He didn’t know what it was about Sherlock he liked.

“John, I got to go I have to get up in the morning for work.”

“So do I, thanks for stopping by.” John said.

“No problem. Just, one more thing."

"What is it?" John asked, perplexed.

"You've been rather preoccupied this evening," He started with a grin, raising a brow as he glanced back at John, "You must be thinking of some pretty lady. Perhaps the next Mrs. Watson?"

John's face flushed before he nearly squealed out, "Oh, get out of here, you! I'm thinking of no one!"

He pushed playfully at Greg, the two chuckling before Greg left. John locked the door before heading to his wardrobe and changed into his pajamas. He settled into bed, trying to sleep but he just couldn’t stop thinking about today. He mostly thought of his client, Sherlock Holmes, the teenager he shouldn’t even be attracted to. John figured he must be that lonely to be attracted to his seventeen year old client. He just shrugged it off and lay in bed going to sleep with Gladstone lying next to him.  
-

Sherlock tapped his fingers idly on his desk boredom settling over his sharp mind. He groaned, trying not to just throw his homework on the floor and going off to stimulate his mind. If he got into further trouble at school who knows what his dear brother would punish him with.

Though...

He tilted his head and thought of the therapist from that morning. That man was interesting. Hardly a punishment when something so stimulating was with him. He pitied the seven day long wait until he would see those intelligent blue eyes once more.

He shoved his half complete homework off his desk and pulled out beakers, test tubes, flasks and chemicals. His mind roared to life, a satisfied smile sliding over his lips as he began an experiment of certain poisons and acids happily.


	3. Chapter 3

John woke up and saw the afternoon sunlight filter into the room, he looked at the clock and laid his head back on the pillow. He groaned as he felt a throbbing in his groin area; he ignore it, trying to go back to sleep since he didn’t have to work today. 

He was woken late in the evening by his cell phone ringing and he checked the number calling. He ignored it; eventually he turned it off. He eventually got up and dressed. He turned his phone back on and once again it rang, he checked it and answered the call.  
“Mary, what the hell do want?” he asked.  
“Where are the papers?” Mary asked.  
“I haven’t gotten them yet.”  
“Yeah, sure.” The call disconnected. 

John knew why his soon to be ex-wife wanted the papers signed so quickly; she was to be married in a month to the man she had left John for. John went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. He stared and closed the door.  
“Damn! I forgot to get food.”  
John went and sat down in his chair. He turned the telly on and channel it was on was airing a crime show. He didn’t feel like going out to get food. The blonde eventually grabbed his wallet and cell phone, along with his keys. He stepped out of the flat and locked the door; he started walking towards the corner store. He'd get something to snack on and just go get take out later like he always did.  
\--  
His brothers nagging was getting on his last nerve. He bit harshly down on his bottom lip, his eyebrows knitted tightly together as his nose crinkled in every possible show of anger possible.

“Enough. I'm going out.” He growled out, standing abruptly from the couch and stalking out of the house and into the cool night air.

He should have been cold, what with only wearing thin trousers and a thin dress shirt, but his anger heated his body to the point of being unaffected.

With a sniff and a shrug, he quickly squared his shoulders and entered the nearest corner store. He made his way up to the counter and muttered, “B&H Silver, please.”

He paid for it with his brothers credit card and took them. He went to leave when he felt a grip on his arm, “Sherlock Holmes?”

He quickly turned around and stared at the person calling him. His therapist.

“John Watson. Whatever are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you.” He glanced down at his hand and went to say something when a long, cool thin hand pressed against his mouth. With a shush, the brunette nodded towards the door and left out it briskly.

John paid for his bag of crisps before he exited the store and saw Sherlock leaning against the wall, smoking.

“You're not old enough to smoke. You do know what you're doing to your health, right?”

“What does it matter?”

“To what question?”

Sherlock gave him a droll stare, snorted, and took a long drag before he blew the smoke in the blondes face. He cocked a brow, smirked, and kicked off the wall, making his way down the road. John looked down the street in the direction of his house but decided against it and hurried after the tall teen.

“Does your family know you smoke?”

“I don't know. You tell me.”

John looked at him expectantly and he rolled his eyes, “Yes. They don't give a care. Trust me, I could be a prostitute and they wouldn't care as long as I didn't tarnish their name.”

He flicked the cigarette on the ground, stomped on it and snuffed it out with a quick shuffle of his foot. He looked at John and muttered, “Why are you following me? You don't live in this direction, you live in the opposite direction.”

John went to ask how when the other cut him off with, “You glanced in the direction of your house before hurrying after me. It's not rocket science, Doctor”

“John, please.”

“Good, because I was going to call you that anyway.”

John stared at him with his mouth open as the other stalked off, not even bothering to see if the other would continue to follow or not.

He sighed, glared at the ground as he contemplated following the obnoxious git or just going home. He weighed both options and decided he'd rather follow this eccentric teen than go to his lonely apartment with a bag of crisps to watch crap telly.

He looked up and saw the teen was far in the distance and ground his teeth before setting off at a run to catch up to the other, whom, when he caught up panting for air, was looking straight ahead with a devilish smirk on his full lips.

“You knew I would follow you, didn't you.”

Sherlock stayed silent, but gave him one of his knowing looks before continuing down the road.


	4. Chapter 4

He was pressing the thin white wrists into deep crimson velvet. His eyes travelled down the muscular arms to a rather built chest for a teen. He looked up and stared into glittering eyes, half-lidded in lust. He kissed those full, tantalizing lips. He ravished them, claimed them as his own. They parted in a moan and his tongue entered and lazily lapped at the others tongue, which shyly replied.

He freed one hand and had both wrists in the other; with this free hand he trailed down the long body until it rested at the hair nestling and protecting it's jewels.

He panted into the kiss in excitement as his hand closed around the throbbing erection of the teen. He pulled back and stared at the long, angled face, the fierce eyes and the white teeth pressing into the full bottom lip in desire as he slowly pumped the others shaft.

He made his way down the body and lowered his head, his ears ringing with the deep, enthralling moan that escaped the teen. He slowly worked the others erection...

John sat up, panting for breath. He ran a hand over his face and quickly lifted the sheet. Oh god, his dick was hard, aching and purple. He placed a hand on it, moaning lightly at the pleasure it brought. He got up and went to the bathroom to relieve himself, and while struggling to maintain an accurate aim, he contemplated the dream.

He had spent the majority of the night with the teen, just walking aimlessly down streets, talking and just getting along. Friendship. They had become friends. His lonely mind was just taking that new found affection and turning his mind weird. He wasn't attracted to- Oh, who was he kidding. He was bloody attracted to that boy.

He bit his lip as he accepted the truth and let his hand work their magic on his lonely, aching need.

–

He settled into his desk at work, pulling out the files of his clients that day and flipping through them to put them in the proper order of appointments. He pushed them to the side and glanced at the clock. He still had about a half hour before his first client should show up so he opened up his computers browser and began surfing the net aimlessly. It wasn't very professional, but if he didn't occupy his mind it would continue to linger on his dream.

“Dr. Watson, your nine o'clock is here.”

He jolted and glanced at the time. It was indeed eight fifty-seven. He closed his browser, made sure his desk and himself were presentable before he made his way to the door. He ushered in his client and made his way to his desk, asking his usual questions.

The other was in a deep ramble about how horrible her life was when he felt his phone vibrate. The woman kept going on and on and was looking off to the side so he quickly pulled his phone out. Nobody ever texts him, or call him for that matter, when they knew he was working.

I'm bored. Entertain me. -SH

John stared at the text from an unknown number. SH? He contemplated the initials, ignoring the woman who was still rambling and it hit him. Sherlock Holmes.

How did you get this number?

John stared at the screen perplexed, keeping it in his hand as he tuned back into the woman's rambling, which was something having to do with being sure her neighbour was stealing her dogs food and giving it to aliens. The phone vibrated.

Must I explain it? -SH

John knitted his brows together as he thought over the night before. It hit him. He had asked to borrow his phone. He tilted his head back and groaned silently. The bugger had messaged himself didn't he. He went into his 'sent' messages and found one to the unknown number that was now known as Sherlock's. He shook his head and saved it to his memory as 'obnoxious git' before sending a text back.

When you borrowed my phone, eh? Shouldn't you be in school?

“Are you listening to me?”

John quickly looked up, snatching a notebook that was in the shelf above his legs and a pen for such instances. He lifted them, “I am listening. Just keeping track of what you say.”

He smiled at her tersely, “Please, continue.”

He didn't have to say it twice, she began on another long train of rants and conspiracies. He glanced at the clock. Ten minutes left of this, thank God. His phone vibrated again. He looked to see that she was preoccupied with a sheet of paper in her lap and pulled his phone out again and checked the message.

School is a waste of my intellect. What are you doing?  
Listening to someone complain I bet. - SH

John held back a chuckle as he replied,

Well, that's my job. I'm actually technically violating  
protocol by talking to a client outside of appointments while  
during someone else’s. But I doubt you'd tell, now would you?

He pocketed his phone again and pretended to write stuff down as he felt her eyes slide to him and then to his hands.

“Do you want to go out for coffee?”

John nearly choked as he glanced up at the woman who was trying to look at him in a flirtatious manner. He coughed, looked away nervously before quickly glancing at her.

“I apologize but that is against protocol. Please, our appointment is over and it is time for you to leave. See you next week.”

The woman glowered at him before stomping out of the room. He leaned back in his chair and placed his hands to his face. This was more normal than you'd think, but there was only one client he even associated with outside of work... and he was attracted to him.

“This is not good for my reputation.” He muttered, pulling his phone out as it vibrated once more.

How about dinner tonight. On me. When do you finish work? -SH

John stared at the phone blankly before a smirk curved his lips.

Asking me on a date? Should I feel flattered? I finish at five.

He pocketed his phone, assuming that would be the last of the messages but was surprised at the immediate vibration.

Yes. See you at five in the lobby. -SH

John gaped at his phone, but felt a thrill shoot through him. Sherlock was unpredictable. He was graceful, sexy and rough. He was falling hard.


	5. Chapter 5

John heard the clock chime when it hit five o’clock; he smiled and grabbed his coat, exiting the office. He walked out to the lobby and saw Sherlock waiting outside.

“Have a nice evening, Dr. Watson.” The receptionist said. John turned and smiled, responding, “You too.”

Sherlock was waiting outside the lobby for John to come out. The blonde doctor walked out and saw the brunette standing before him. John walked in the direction of the road and Sherlock walked up next to him.

“Does your brother know where you are?” John asked.

“Nope.” 

They got to the road and Sherlock hailed a cab. Sherlock got in first and John followed.

“Do you have a place in mind?”

“Yeah, it is one of my favorite places.” John said just before giving the cabbie the address, John couldn’t help but smile.

\--

The cab stopped in front of Angelo’s. John paid the cabbie and the two males got out; they went in and the waiter seated them. They both flipped through the menu and the waiter came up to fill their glasses with water.

"What can I get you?"

"I'd like steak and mashed potatoes." John ordered, putting his menu down to the side. He glanced at Sherlock who put his down as well.

"Chocolate cake."

John stared incredulously at the teen.

"Chocolate cake? For dinner?"

"Sugar stimulates the mind. Best thing. Can I have a cola with that? Thanks."

"You know that's not exactly healthy."

Sherlock ignored him entirely, staring out the window.

“How can you get bored?” the doctor asked curiously after getting tired of the silence. 

"When your mind surpasses both your peers and teachers, what is there to bother learning?"

“Aren’t you in a private school?”

“What does that have to do with anything? It's just drama and child level of classes."

“Of course, it is high school.” John said as the food arrived.

“I rather be performing experiments.” Sherlock muttered while studying the people walking outside.

“Do I want to ask what kind of experiments?”

“Informative experiments that will be of major help with solving crimes the police are too stupid to see.” Sherlock answered.

John stared at him, his mouth open in shock.

"You're a teen. What do you know of crime scenes and how you'd be better than the police?"

Sherlock just stared at John before taking a large bite of his cake, one brow cocked.

"More than they do."

John refused to say anything and continued to eat his food in silence.

\--  
Not too far away, John's friend Greg was getting take out and as he went to his car he looked across to Angelo’s. He saw John at a window table- which was normal- but tonight someone was with him. A male with a dark mess of curls. He looked very young, eighteen at most. John rarely took anyone to his favorite place, so this young man must be the one distracting the blonde. Greg got in his car and figured h'de see John tomorrow and bring it up.  
\--  
Inside Sherlock went to pay for the bill while John got his coat; he took a deep breath, his mind wandering to his dream. John shrugged the thought away as Sherlock came back, “Let’s go.” 

They left the restaurant and were making their way down the street towards John's flat. The two were quiet, enjoying the comfortable silence between them. The light down the street turned green and Sherlock jolted. He quickly ushered John to the side, glanced over his shoulder before he placed both hands on John's shoulders and swooped down, kissing the other man. John's eyes widened, his pulse quickened as did his breath. He went to raise his hands to brace himself on the teen when he pulled away, looking in the direction a car passed in.

"Sorry about that, that was my broth-"

John's fingers threaded into the curly mess of hair, yanked the now wide-eyed and taken aback teen's head and turned them around, slamming Sherlock forcefully into the wall and stretching up until he was on the tips of his toes and kissed him- hard. His heart palpitated wildly as he felt the tense teen slowly relax and place his hands awkwardly on John's hips. John pulled away and looked up at the other through his lashes.

"I'm.. sorry.."

John quickly looked up, scared he just chased away the first person he found attractive in a long while. He went to say something when he realised Sherlock was glancing down the street in the distance, his curls hiding his eyes but his pale skin betrayed his embarrassment regardless of the little light cast in the street.

"I.. don't know how to kiss. Never have."

John held back a laugh and raised a hand, placing it amiably on the others shoulder.

"You're not so bad. I can teach you how, among other things. If you'd.. let me?"

Sherlock looked down at him; for once a bashful expression rather than an arrogant one was on his face. He smiled and put a hand on John's shoulder and nodded, "Yes."


	6. Chapter 6

John was walking to the café near where he lived, he just had to get out of the flat. Everyday he seemed to feel more alone in the flat; he had finally got the divorce papers and signed them, sending them off to the lawyers. The more time he spent with Sherlock, the more he wanted to be near the teen. He entered the café and saw Greg waiting so he walked up to the grey haired male.

"Hey, long time no see!"

"Oh, hey, John. About time. This coffee is horrible, just so you know."

"That's why I buy the tea." He said with a grin as he sat down.

"So, yesterday.." 

"What about it?" He sipped his tea.

"I saw you with some young fellow. Anything I should know?" John nearly spat out his tea.

"You saw that?"

Lestrade smiled mischievously, "Oh yes. Yes I did. So... Care to explain why such a young looking fellow was eating with you at your favorite restaurant?"

John glanced to the side, "Sherlock- I mean, he asked me to dinner so.. I took him there? Uh... He's a patient I just happened to bump into? Uh.."

"Oh, cut the crap, John. You like him. Sherlock huh? Funny name." 

John flushed, "I.. uh.. I have to go. Catch you later?"

"Yes, you will. You can't escape this conversation forever!"  
-  
John sighed as he sunk into the sofa. He pulled out the remote and turned on the telly, staring blankly at the drama currently playing. His mind began to wander to his.. Boyfriend? Is that what they were now? Boyfriends? Or were they friends with benefits? But he was still Sherlock's therapist. He hummed and contemplated a bit, but soon pushed that subject away. He thought of the faint blush on the flawless, pale cheekbones, the way his hair curled so unruly but attractively. He glanced to the side, biting his lip. This was bad. He had it really bad. Then he heard his phone buzz.

My brother is being annoying. What are you doing? I'm bored. SH

Watching crap telly.

That's far more interesting than being nagged at by brother dearest. SH

Really now? So far there's an affair, the Scottish detective is dying and  
he has a harsh past that he's trying to atone for. Cliche.

That's very unrealistic. My brother wants me to stop fiddling on my phone.  
Let's meet up. I need to get out of here. SH

Where should we meet? It's not exactly daylight out.

Oh, let's meet up at that restaurant again. Not to eat, just a meeting place. SH

Alright, see you there.

John pocketed his phone and stood up, turning off the telly. He grabbed his coat and quickly left his flat, a spring in his step as he made his way to the restaurant. Once he arrived, the tall teen came into view dragging on a cigarette. He blew the smoke into the atmosphere before walking towards him with a blank expression.

"Thank you for saving me from the confines of boredom and my arch-nemesis named my brother." Sherlock muttered, his lips wrapping around the cigarette once again.

John didn't like smoking, he found it a disgusting habit to say the least, but this man somehow made it alluring. He watched the smoke as it blew from his nose and the glittering eyes focused on his own, a smirk twitching at the corners of his full lips.

"Shall we?"


	7. Chapter 7

Lestrade leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes after hours of research. He pulled away from his laptop and made his way into the den, sitting down heavily on the sofa and flipping through some of the papers he printed. Sherlock wasn't a hard name to find due to it's obscurity, and with his connections and such he had found out the address of this Sherlock Holmes that his friend seemed to be wrapped up in.

“I should pay this fellow a visit.” He murmured, dropping the files on his table before getting up and making his way to his bedroom. A few hours sleep and he'll be right to test this bastard.

–

Sherlock was mid-experiment when he was informed that someone was there to see him. He muttered under his breath, “Tell them to go away.”

“I'm not going anywhere.”

Sherlock glanced up to see an average sized male with grey hair standing in the doorway of his room with a harried looking butler- whom scampered off quickly.

“Can I help you?” Sherlock asked, his displeasure obvious as he regarded the man.

“Yes. I'd like to know what you're doing with my friend, John Watson?”

Sherlock cocked a brow and stared harshly at him, “My therapist? What about him?”

Lestrade stared back, gaze unwavering, “Is that all he is to you?”

“What's it to you?” Sherlock growled, his manner getting defiant as he made his way into the personal space of the other, “Why is his friend bothering me?”

“How old are you.”

The sudden change in subject startled Sherlock, who muttered out, “Seventeen.”

“You're way to young to be with him, let alone courting. What are you doing?”

“I do believe that is none of your business. Why are you bothering me? It's his choice, not yours. Get out of my house.” Sherlock growled, pushing the man out of his room.

“What's going on here?”

Sherlock and Lestrade glanced down the hall to see a rather cross Mycroft glaring at them.

“None of your business, brother.” Sherlock stated, before entering his room and closing the door with a click.

“Is he always like that?” Lestrade asked, looking at the chubby redhead whom was glaring at the closed door with a look of dismay before muttering, “Unfortunately.”

Lestrade walked up to the pale man and outstretched a hand, “I'm Greg, you are?”

Mycroft looked up through his lashes, startled by an unknown feeling welling in his gut as he hesitantly shook the others hand, “Mycroft.”

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mycroft.” Lestrade said, a winning smile on his face as he stared at the short man. “I best be going, I hope to see you again sometime.”

Mycroft stared after the athletic man, a look of longing on his features that quickly turned to one of exasperation as he heard the sound of glass breaking and curses. He sighed and went to get the first-aid kit.

\--

 

John sat watching crap telly while eating dinner when he heard his phone buzz. He picked it up and saw he had a message.

Meet me outside. SH

John looked baffled over the text but slipped his shoes and coat on before walking outside. He saw the teen smoking while impatiently waiting. He started to wonder how Sherlock knew his address, but then again the teen was smart.

“Didn’t expect to see you tonight.” John said, walking down the steps and sitting down; the brunette sat next to him.

“Brother was bothering me.” Sherlock said, “Oh, your friend visited me.”

“My friend?” John looked at Sherlock, confused.

“Grey hair, recently divorced.”

John let out a sigh, “Yeah, that would be Greg Lestrade. He must be trying to protect me again.” Sherlock cocked a brow in question. “We have been friends for a while and any time I date someone new he goes and investigates them.”

“Overbearing.”

The two sat outside, talking for another hour before Sherlock headed home. John had work the next day and needed to sleep but, of course, that usually involved a wet dream of Sherlock. He took a deep breath and laid down to sleep, ready for those nightly dreams to commence once again.


	8. Chapter 8

John was walking Gladstone in the park as he thought about his relationship with Sherlock. Well it wasn't really a relationship yet. He wasn’t sure how Sherlock felt about him; he knew how he felt about Sherlock, but the brunette was only seventeen. Most seventeen year olds were in and out of relationships. Sherlock wasn’t a normal teen and had never been in a relationship. So far they had only kissed once and mostly just spent time together; it was better than being alone in the flat. John liked his alone time and being with Gladstone but he still needed a human companion.

“John.” A voice said, he turned and saw his friend.

“Greg.” John was surprised.

“So, um… you all right?” Greg asked.

“Y…yeah, just thinking…”

“You look worried. You want to talk?”

“Last time I did, you went and visited Sherlock.”

“True, but you know why.” Greg stated.

“Right. I don’t need you checking him out or anything.” John stated.

“Sorry, but my guess is you're confused.”

“No kidding.” John retorted, he shook his head.

“Okay, I probably should go. I have work, but I am here if you need to talk.” Greg offered before leaving quickly.  
-  
John took a deep breath as he got into his flat and Gladstone stared at him.

“What?” The dog walked away to the kitchen.

“Oh right, food.” He let out a sigh and entered the kitchen, grabbing the dog's dish, filled it with food and placed it down on the floor. He exited the kitchen as Gladstone started to eat. He turned on the telly hoping something good would be on today. He flipped through the channels and was hoping his phone would go off, but Sherlock was probably working on an experiment or something.

“Ugh…” John groaned. Gladstone hopped on the couch at that moment; the blonde was startled “You're bored too.”

He found a crime show and watched it, cuddling up with his dog. He couldn’t focus on the show so he turned it off. He looked at Gladstone and got up. He went to his bedroom and laid down drifting off to sleep as Gladstone joined him on the bed.


	9. Chapter 9

John awoke with a raging erection. He quickly pressed the heel of his palm against the throbbing flesh and groaned in discomfort. He rolled out of bed, dodged the snoring Gladstone and padded into the bathroom to relieve himself. He entered his bedroom once again, sighing in relief as his morning wood became flaccid once more as he changed his clothes.

Today he got to see Sherlock for his appointment. He tried to hide his excitement over it for the teen always made his days brighter, but the skip in his step simply refused to leave. He patted Gladstone on the head, checked his water dish then left for work.

–

John's face was resting on his desk by the time ten o'clock came around. The client prior to Sherlock was one of the more taxing ones he had to listen to. Another violent conspiracy theorist was after Sherlock and he really wasn't looking forward to having two in one day. At least it was a short day because of that; finishing at two in the afternoon rather than five when he had non-violent cases.

He shuffled his papers a little, glanced around his darkened office before he leaned back in his chair for a quick snooze. Sherlock had sent him a text stating he would be a half hour to an hour late due to an exam of sorts at school he simply couldn't miss, much to his chagrin. It would cut into his lunch break, but he asked Sherlock to pick him up something to eat in compensation for having to wait and loose half his lunch.

He drifted off into a light doze, mainly daydreaming about his next client in an entirely inappropriate way. When the intercom crackled to life, his face was flushed and his pants tented due to his improper mindset towards his client. He coughed, told his receptionist to send him in, and quickly shoved a hand into his trousers to shift his aching erection into a much more comfortable-and discreet- position in his pants.

“How naughty.” The teasing baritone tickled his ears as the door clicked shut behind Sherlock, whom walked up to him with a bag, handing it over.

“Fish and chips?” John asked, pulling the paper wrapped lunch out of the bag.

“No good?” Sherlock asked as he sat himself comfortably in the large chair, staring at him in his usual all-knowing manner.

“Good.” John replied, unwrapping his food and eating it while staring at his client-slash-friend-slash-possibly boyfriend.

“So, how was your day? What was your exam on? How's your brother?” John asked between bites of his lunch.

“Boring. History. Annoying.” Sherlock answered in his clip manner while picking at the chair he was on.

“Violent client prior to me?” He asked suddenly, studying the arm rest. John cocked a brow in his direction and it was all the confirmation he needed. John opened his mouth to request an explanation, but it was needless for the teen explained it for him.

“Finger nail marks in the wood, torn fabric on the arm rests. These weren't there last week and you can smell the wood so the fingernail marks are quite fresh.”

“Brilliant.” John murmured, smiling in the teens direction as he started eating his chips, muttering about their lack of ketchup momentarily.

The office fell into a comfortable silence as John finished up his lunch. He had offered his food to the teen, but the other shook his head negatively. Once everything was eaten and the rubbish tossed in the bin, he leaned back in his chair and regarded the brunette sitting across from him with a brow cocked as he awaited the other to begin.

John just smiled and shook his head, “I don't even get why you're still here. There's no reason for it. Sure, you have most definitely mental issues- don't give me that look, we all do- but there's no reason to come to a corrective therapist. Your brother is really extreme.”

“My brother put me here as punishment. I wonder what his face would look like if he knew exactly how I deal with my therapist.” Sherlock replied, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he chuckled to himself.

John glanced to the side, fighting down a blush, coughed, and looked back at the teen, “Excuse me?”

Sherlock gave him a look of annoyance and he stood up walking up to his desk and leaning heavily on it, his face mere inches from John's.

“Think, John.” He breathed before leaning forward and capturing the stunned therapist's lips.

John let out a small groan and a tongue made it's way into his mouth. Sherlock climbed onto the desk and braced himself on the armrests of John's chair, sliding closer until he was in the therapist's lap. John moved away quickly and gasped out, “Sherlock! I'm your therapist, you're a minor, and I can loose my job and get thrown in jail!”

Sherlock pulled back, his hair messy and wild, his eyes glittering fiercely as he muttered out, “My brother is the government. I can make him pull strings to hide this until next year if it's needed. After all, I have leverage against him.”

John stared at him in confusion, his heart palpitating wildly as the teens musky scent filled his nostrils and his husky, deep, throaty voice filled his ears. His senses were nearly frayed in the overload of sensations.

“Leverage?” He whispered, his voice giving away his impure thoughts at the moment as he panted with need, staring up through his lashes at the taller man in his lap.

“He has a... thing.. for your friend.” Sherlock whispered, moving forward to nuzzle John's neck.

The blonde gasped slightly before murmuring, “Lestrade?”

“Guess that's his name.” Sherlock replied before latching onto John's neck, suckling at it and causing the smaller man to moan.

“Sherlock, we can't do this here! The receptionist is just outside!”

Sherlock pulled away, glanced at the computer, then back. “We have a half hour. That's more than enough time from my calculations and experiments.”

John's eyebrows raised to his hairline as he stared at the serious teen in front of him.

“Sherlock, I know what it's like to be a teenager, your hormones are all over the place, but you really don't want this. You don't want an old man like me. Why don't you get with someone your own age?”

This stopped the teen cold who pulled away and stared at him, his eyes fierce as he growled out, “I have never been attracted to a single person in my life until I met you. I didn't even get erections outside of the morning kind. I've seen women naked, men naked, and not even a stir. I look on clinically detached to everyone. Everyone, but you.”

John stared at him, his eyes wide before he smiled at the teen and leaned forward, brushing his lips to the others lightly.

–

Pants filled the room; clothing was strewn across the floor along with papers, files, keyboard and desktop monitor. Everything was on the floor. The desk was occupied by the two men in heated passion. Sherlock lay flat on his back on the desk; his feet resting against the edge as he carefully moved his hips rhythmically. His silk shirt was opened and caught on his shoulders as he held the man above him steady. John let out a wanton gasp as their hips met once again, his blue shirt hanging off one shoulder, his hair mussed and face flushed over the exertion and excitement of possibly being caught by his receptionist or next client. He suddenly lunged himself forward, his hips snapping to get the others length further into him as his hands tangled themselves in the curly hair and the two kissed each other, mouths opened and gasping for air until Sherlock gave out a low groan as he came, filling John’s inside with his release. John lay atop him, his erection throbbing between them as he moved to get off the other, whom gasped due to his penis being overly sensitive now.

“I.. Need to take care of you.” Sherlock murmured, sitting up on the desk and looking at the smaller mans erection.

John went to refuse but the tall teen had already pushed him into the armchair his clients used and sunk to his knees on the carpet. The blonde's head shot back as he cried out over the hot heat enveloping his engorged member. It didn't take long, a few sloppy licks and a pull and he came, folded in half and his hands tangled painfully in the others unruly curls. Sherlock swallowed and stood up, glancing at the door with a look of alarm.

“Quickly, get dressed. Your receptionist is about to open the door.”

John scrambled for his clothes, pulling on his pants and trousers and sliding behind his desk, buttoning up his shirt while Sherlock pulled his own pants and trousers up and at an almost inhuman speed quickly placed the papers, computer and files back on the desk. He kicked their socks an shoes behind the desk and had just sat down in the chair when the receptionist opened the door.

“I just came to inform you that your one o'clock is here. Is there an issue that your previous client is still here?” She asked, looking between the two. She obviously noticed their mussed hair and flushed complexions but decided to be silent over it and looked at her boss.

“It's his last appointment so I was just going over everything with him. Thank you for coming, Mr. Holmes, I hope my service was to your liking.”

“Indeed it was, Dr. Watson.” Sherlock replied as he made his way to the door. He sent him a wink before leaving entirely.

“I'll keep it quiet.” The receptionist murmured, going to leave.

“Thank you, Mary.”


	10. epilogue

Ten years had passed since they had became an item. John had sold his practice a few years ago after an altercation that was nearly life threatening had Sherlock not deduced something wrong with the client he was seeing and hid under the desk. John had thought it silly, but when a knife was pressed to his throat and with him being seated so he couldn't elbow or kick the man back, he was entirely thankful to the brunette when he managed to slip out from under the desk and disarm the man and calling DI Lestrade to take him away.

 

Sherlock had become a consulting detective and worked with Lestrade on most cases, and on those cases Sherlock had to live with his phone ringing non-stop due to his brother wanting to 'check up' on him and then request Lestrade so he could make sure Sherlock wasn't being a bother.

It really was no surprise when Lestrade ended up with Mycroft, truly no surprise. Sherlock was deeply thankful for it since that meant his phone was blissfully quiet when he was working now.

John's receptionist, Mary, had married shortly before he closed his practice and he was thankful for her services. Sadly, she was murdered two years later while being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It wounded him to have found her body when Sherlock had been called to the case.

That's the other thing. He was now Sherlock's partner not just at home, but in crimes as well. As a psychologist and a doctor, he could help the genius mind of his companion with the cases.

Today, however, was their ten year anniversary. He never expects Sherlock to remember, let alone care, for such frivolous things. The man was definitely not normal, but that's what made him amazing to begin with, so imagine his surprise when he came home to a nice meal prepared on the table.

He looked up at Sherlock whom was standing at the window with his violin in his grasp, whom then turned to look at him with a cocked brow.

“Do sit down and eat before it gets cold. Mrs. Hudson worked hard on that for you, by my request of course. How was Lestrade?” Sherlock asked, placing his violin and bow down before joining him at the table.

“He was fine. Mycroft is driving him a bit mad with the secrets and they got into an argument.” John replied, tucking into his steak with gusto.

“He should have known that my brother would be secretive. That is his job after all.” Sherlock sniffed, glancing out the window with a look of disdain. “The fact he even got with my brother is troubling.”

“He loves him, you know? I had to listen to details I don't even want to think of when he got too drunk. I had to take him home before coming here, so this meal.. Thanks.”

“I had a feeling you would need it. Brother dearest called me to complain while I was amidst an experiment. I was displeased, obviously, and told him such, but he just didn't care and kept on going and I can definitely say I do not want to hear what Lestrade can do in the bedroom. Ever. That's not something I wish to know and I would like to delete it from my mind as soon as possible lest I see him prior to it and get the vivid imagery back. I wish I could have just hung up, and I did, I assure you, but he just kept calling back until I picked up. I really wish he would get friends to complain at for I simply do not care.”

John looked up at Sherlock when he finished the long winded ramble, barely taking a breath between words. He smiled at the other and shook his head.

“I love you, you know?”

Sherlock glanced in his direction, “I do.”


End file.
